


Uncle Peter

by weardodo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Job, Happy Ending, Infidelity, It's Stiles manipulating Peter into having sex and not the other way around, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Peter is Stiles' new uncle, Stiles gets off on older men, Stiles is underaged, Stiles manipulates to get what he wants, bare-backing (let's pretend they both got tested ok), bit of come-play (you'll miss it if you blink), masturbation using banana, midly dubcon is not the way you'd think btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:17:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weardodo/pseuds/weardodo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a thing for older men and Peter is his hot new uncle.</p><p>(Warning: Stiles is 13 in this fic!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay... so.. I scrolled passed a few posts on Tumblr talking about Stiles being 13 and having sex with Peter... 
> 
> Wehehelllll... *tadaah* ^^
> 
> I liked this 'kind-of-prompt' because I've been where Stiles is in this fic, qua being sexually interested in older men, (even at a much earlier age than 13) so.. It's a line of morality I can easily cross in my mind without feeling bad about it *whistles innocently*
> 
> Hope you like it and let me know if I should continue!
> 
> -x-
> 
> Oh, and unbeta'd, Eng. not my native language, etc etc, all mistakes are mine.

 

 

He was twelve when he had his first wet-dream, and seeing as he was still quite young, his dad hadn’t told him about those kind of dreams and what they meant yet. His mom would’ve probably talked to him about it at an earlier age, just to be sure, but she died before something like this was even in the realm of possibilities.

 

He’d woken up in the middle of the night, his Batman pajama-pants soaked and sticky. He figured he must’ve somehow wet the bed and didn’t want his dad to take drastic measures, like letting him sleep with one of those plastic covers underneath his sheets, so he got out of bed and started changing the sheets, taking a quick shower before changing himself and going back to sleep.

 

Of course his dad did notice, because there’s no way of hiding dirty laundry from a man that actually does the laundry, and he sat Stiles down that evening. That talk had been mortifyingly embarrassing, to say the least. Luckily it seemed to be just as embarrassing for his dad as it was for him, so he counted that as a small win.

 

He did have more wet-dreams after that, and he also started to get aroused on the most inconvenient times during the day. The internet told him that that kind of stuff was all normal, and he didn’t worry about it – well, at least not more than the occasional wish for the ground to swallow him whole.

 

There was something different about him though, and he knew it, he also knew exactly what it was called (long live the internet). It weren’t just girls that aroused him or appeared in his sticky dreams, there were also guys, more so even.

 

But that wasn’t all that’s different about him, there was something else, something which he hadn’t dared to research on the net yet. He didn’t just dream and get aroused by any guys, like the boys in his class or at his summer-camps, no, he sported a hard-on for men, older men like his teachers or summer-camp leaders.

 

Or his new hot uncle…

 

 

+++

 

 

He was thirteen when he and his dad visited his dad’s younger sister – his aunt Tess – and got to meet her new boyfriend, Peter Hale. Stiles knew he was fucked the second the man emerged from the kitchen to shake hands. He couldn’t help the way his mouth had suddenly started to hang wide open as the older man caught his eyes and smiled a blinding smile while reaching out his hand.

 

“Well, hello there, you must be Stiles, I’ve heard so much about you. My name is Peter, but you can call me ‘Uncle Peter’ or just ‘Uncle’ if you want.”

 

The man spoke but Stiles couldn’t quite grasp what he was saying. His new ‘uncle’ was hot, as in mindboggling hot. He was literally everything Stiles has ever dreamed of, everything he had jerked off to without ever giving the men in his dreams a specific face. His body was insane, with broad shoulders, a broad chest and a neck almost like a bull. And to top it off, Peter was wearing a tight body-hugging long-sleeved shirt with a V-neck that showed enough chest-hair to let Stiles know just what kind of fur the man must be hiding underneath the rest of his clothes.

 

Realizing he was standing there with his mouth agape just staring instead of saying or doing anything to greet the man, he visibly snapped himself out of his daze and shook the man’s – very manly and hairy-knuckled – hand while wiping his mouth subconsciously with the back of his other hand. Luckily nobody noticed the way he reacted, because his dad was already talking to his sister and following her to the kitchen to get something to drink.

 

Peter must’ve noticed though, because his smile widened knowingly and he actually gave Stiles a wink before releasing his hand. _The man that had just suggested to him he’d call him ‘Uncle’ had noticed the way his ‘Nephew’ was drooling over him and winked at him!_ He was so thoroughly fucked.

 

Then again, maybe it was just in his head, maybe it was just a normal wink, something which an uncle does all the time with family-members? He never had an uncle before – his aunt never dated a guy long enough for him and his dad to meet them –, he doesn’t know how this all worked. And plus, his dad and aunt hadn’t noticed the way he reacted, so maybe Peter hadn’t noticed either?

 

After all, you’d have to be willing to think _thát way_ , to let your mind _go there_ to notice, right? And nobody ever noticed the way Stiles got off on thinking about older men taking control over him, treating him roughly, overpowering him and taking him like he secretly wants to be taken.

 

Nobody noticed because it wasn’t in the realm of possibilities. Every article Stiles has ever read about something like this was always focused on pedophilia, about the older men having the wrong kind of feelings for under-aged children, but never once did they speak of cases where it had been the other way around, cases in which ‘children’ like Stiles had those wrong kind of feelings for adult men.

 

He knew he couldn’t possibly be the only one having those type of feelings, but apparently that wasn’t something people liked to talk about, so he too had kept his mouth shut, waiting for the moment someone would be willing to indulge in his cravings.

 

He knew age was important – even though for him it wasn’t – , and if he didn’t just want some pedophile to give him what he wants – he could spot those from miles away, after all, he was walking around in their mind-set and noticed every little thing that ‘normal’ people never did – he would probably have to wait until his age became more ‘acceptable’. He figured fifteen or sixteen would at least give him more options, or at least he always hoped it would.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

As the evening progresses, Stiles starts to think that maybe, just maybe, he can get something – anything – out of his hot new uncle, something he can use as spank-bank material for a while?

 

Usually he’d try to get under someone’s skin by annoying the hell out of them, trying to get a rile out of them so that they’ll grip him by his arms hard to shake some sense into him. He’d relish those kind of rough touches, touches that give him physical material for his very vivid fantasies, but he doesn’t want this man to get angry with him, so that idea is definitely out.

 

He wants to touch him, wants to see if he can get Peter to touch him in some sort of way, and there’s only one way to achieve that. He needs to get close.

 

Peter had cooked dinner, and to Stiles’ surprise it apparently was custom in Tess and Peter’s relationship that Peter also did the dishes, so he did what any good Samaritan would do and offered to help out.

 

Peter actually seemed surprise by Stiles’ offer, as if no-one had ever offered to help him out like that, something which Stiles also rendered pretty weird. Wasn’t it normal to help each-other out in a relationship? He remembers how his mom and dad always did these type of things together, how they practically did everything together, always dividing chores in equal measure. Now that he thought about it, Peter had been doing everything alone that day and evening, serving them while his aunt just sat in her chair and chatted away.

 

He tried not to give it too much thought and focused on the wet dishes being handed to him to dry off. They worked up a pretty relaxing rhythm, a radio in the corner playing some music helping their flow along, and it didn’t take long before Stiles put away the last plate and wiped his hand on the dishcloth while leaning his hip against the counter, looking at Peter.

 

He must have been staring a bit too intently, because he could see how Peter looked at him from the corner of his eyes, shifting his posture a bit nervously while cleaning out the drain. Suddenly turning towards Stiles, he smiles that blinding smile again, but Stiles can see a hint of uncertainty in the man’s eyes.

 

“Thank you for willing to help me, Stiles, that was very nice of you.”

 

“No problem, always glad to help.” He mirrors Peter’s smile with one of his own, and he knows his eyes must betray something because the man suddenly turns towards the sink again while clearing his throat.

 

“So… guess we’d better get back to your father and aunt, see if we missed some intriguing childhood stories.” Stiles isn’t sure, but Peter doesn’t sound like he’s looking forward to that prospect at all, so he lets his mind work in overdrive, trying to come up with an alternative, something – anything – to keep Peter close just a little while longer.

 

Suddenly he remembers something and he can’t help but smirk a little in advance as he follows Peter back into the living-room – he’d let Peter lead the way of course, after all, it’s not every day that he’d get a chance to blatantly stare at the way the man’s gorgeous ass moves in those tight jeans. _Oh god, this is his uncle, not by blood, but still, he should feel bad about this. He should, but he doesn’t, not one bit, which probably should worry him somehow. And yet again, it really doesn’t._

 

His dad and auntie Tess don’t even seem to acknowledge their presence as they enter the room, Tess laughing wholeheartedly – or rather ‘cackling wholeheartedly’ – while sipping her wine, both too busy talking to even turn their heads.

 

“Well, you were right, this certainly looks _intriguing_ ,” he whispers sarcastically at the man standing beside him without looking away from the scene in front of him. It earns him a snort and a playful slap on his arm. _Score_.

 

“Come on, wise-ass.” Peter walks over to Tess and gives her a kiss on her head, making her cock her head to him briefly before regaining her story about the neighbor’s dog. Stiles can’t help but roll his eyes at her topic of choice but walks over to the couch anyway and flops down beside his dad with a sigh.

 

He watches how Peter sits down in the chair beside his aunt and grabs his drink tightly, looking at it as if it could save him from entering the conversation somehow. At least Stiles isn’t the only one bored out of his mind and not interested in the way the neighbor’s poodle knows how to bark along with the national anthem. Time to set his plan in motion.

 

“Auntie Tess?” he interrupts with an overly sweet child-like voice, making the room go silent as all three adults turn towards him. “Do you still have that Super Nintendo in the guest-room? Because I thought that maybe I could play a game or something while you and dad have your grown-up conversations?” He almost makes himself nauseous with how overly innocent and sweet he asked his aunt that question, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

 

“Sure you may, sweety, it’s still connected to the tv in the guest-room,” she replies with fondness, before looking at her brother and giving him a not so subtle wink. “I can understand that this kind of visit can be somewhat boring for a boy your age, so go and have fun. _Shoo!_ ” She flaps her hands in the general direction of the doorway leading to the hallway and as Stiles almost walks through it giving her a smile and a ‘thanks’, he suddenly stops.

 

“Um,” he says, making all eyes drop on him again. “I almost forgot that you only have games that you can play with two players.” It’s a lie, but he also knows that his aunt and his dad don’t know shit about computers nor computer-games, so he’s willing to take that chance.

 

He gives them his best pout, trying to look utterly disappointed before mimicking a sudden epiphany. “Oh, can _Uncle Peter_ come play with me? Just one game, oh _please_?” He nearly jumps around from feet to feet in emphasis of how much he really wants to spend some quality time with his new uncle, and it’s taking all of his willpower not to bark out a laugh when he sees how Peter nearly chokes on his drink at Stiles’ words. Luckily the man regains himself just in time before Tess and his dad turn towards him as if throwing the ball in his court.

 

Peter looks at Tess, then his dad, before turning his eyes to Stiles and squinting a bit as if trying to figure out what it is exactly that Stiles is playing at. Stiles just looks back with his best impression of Scott’s innocent puppy-dog eyes – he knew his best friend’s facial expressions would come in handy at some moment in time, and this was definitely that moment.

 

“Sure, why not?” It comes out a little uncertain, as if he’s actually asking himself why it wouldn’t be a good idea to be alone in one room with his thirteen year old nephew, but he pushes himself up out of his chair anyway and walks over to Stiles who is doing a little fistpump accompanied by an audible ‘yes’.

 

Tess and his dad don’t really seem to care if Peter is present during their little catch-up or not, as they’re already busy talking about other boring shit while Peter follows him into the hallway leading to the guest-room.

 

“I know you lied about the games, Stiles.” Peter notes as he grabs one of the consoles and flops down on the ground in front of the bed.

 

“And yet here you are,” Stiles retorts a little cocky without turning towards the man behind him as he sets up the game and turns on the tv. “What does that say about you?” He asks while turning towards Peter, looking down at the man with a grin as he walks over and flops down beside him.

 

He can feel how Peter’s eyes are turned on him, like he’s thinking of a good comeback but can’t think of one, and Stiles can’t help but smirk at that.

 

“It says,” Peter finally says. “That I’d rather sit here with a thirteen year old boy playing videogames than listen to your father and _my girlfriend_ ” – emphasis on the ‘girlfriend’ part – “talk about the neighborhood pet-dressage.” The man turns his gaze towards the screen, holding his console with two hands in front of him, thumbs ready, as if his answer is all that needed to be said on the matter.

 

Stiles just snorts and starts the game.

 

They actually play more than one game, three to be exact, but only because Stiles is a sore loser and keeps losing to Peter. At the end of the third game, Stiles watches how his player gets blown up and a blinking ‘game over’ fills the screen. He can’t help but sulk a little. How is it possible for him to lose three times in a row to a man that’s nearly thrice his age?

 

“You cheated, you must’ve cheated, there’s no way you can be this good!”

 

“Aw, did I hurt your feelings by kicking your ass into oblivion?” Peter coos at him while poking a finger into his side, making Stiles squeak and flail his limbs before he has a chance to grab the man’s wrists to stop him from poking again.

 

Getting control over his breathing he’s suddenly very aware of the fact that his hands are holding Peter’s wrists and that Peter is looking down at their joined hands with raised eyebrows and question in his eyes. Before Stiles knows what he’s doing he releases one wrist and traces his long fingers up until they reach the dot of hair peaking up from under the man’s deep V-neck and he lets his fingers ghost there for a second before snapping out of his daze.

 

Stiles quickly retrieves his hands and sits back down with his back against the side of the bed again, looking at the black screen of the tv as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen in his life.

 

“Sorry,” he offers while rubbing his sweaty palms onto his thighs. The room is eerily silent for a few seconds before Stiles dares to speak again. “I like you, ‘Uncle’ Peter.” He air-quotes the ‘Uncle’ part while rolling his eyes, and before he can say anything else, the man next to him jumps to his feet with the speed of light and walks towards the door.

 

“We really should get back to _Dutches the Singing Dog_ , you coming?” Stiles can almost feel the waves of panic rolling off the man, hitting him like a wall of rejection. He mutters a ‘sure’ while lifting himself from the ground and following Peter back into the living-room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles + Banana (that's it, that's the chapter ^^)
> 
> Btw, I have no idea how Facebook works, so if Facebook-functions don’t make sense, that’s bc I took a wild guess and made it up ^^

                                           [](http://www.google.nl/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=CugWqbXSiwMjkM&tbnid=TcAjLoNejipimM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.safaloverseas.com%2Findex.php%3Foption%3Dcom_djcatalog2%26view%3Ditem%26id%3D22%26Itemid%3D223&ei=1ccUUsi6JMHcswaRp4CoCQ&bvm=bv.50952593,d.Yms&psig=AFQjCNEJdrXPwpOvAU1PjxucwNOXhAHByw&ust=1377178533772665)

 

Obviously Stiles spends half that night up searching for Peter Hale on the internet. He finds the man’s Facebook pretty quickly, but it’s protected and it takes him an hour before he finds the courage to send in a friend-request. After all, who knows what kind of pictures are on there, pictures he could use to feed his already vividly formed fantasies? And maybe, just maybe Peter will accept his request, you never know right?

 

To Stiles’ surprise his friend-request gets accepted within twenty minutes after hitting ‘send’, and he can’t help but look at his alarm clock, looking at the red-lighted digits telling him it’s already half past two. Clearly he wasn’t the only one not being able to sleep ánd roaming the net as way of a distraction. He wonders what Peter is doing on the internet right now.

 

He scrolls through the pictures, most of them from holidays or of him posing with his aunt. He notices something odd when scrolling through the pictures with his aunt Tess though. The earlier pictures show a overly happy couple – _sickeningly so_ , Stiles’ somewhat jealous mind provides – but as the pictures become more recent, Peter’s laugh seems to become more and more forced, his smile as blinding as ever, but his eyes telling an entirely different story. He looks sad, unhappy even.

 

He saves some of the holiday pictures of Peter wearing nothing but shorts and sunglasses on his laptop for safe keeping (and to jerk off to later), before logging off and trying to get some sleep. He’s not surprised to wake up a few hours later drenched in his own come, but he doesn’t particularly like the fact that he can’t remember the specifics of his dream this time.

 

+++

 

The next night his dad gets called into work and it’s going to be an all-nighter, but Stiles is used to that by now, so he doesn’t mind. Besides, he has plans of his own, plans that involve some physical exploration of his own body and sexuality. That stuff is important after all.

 

He’s watched numerous gay-porn videos and although he has already explored the penetration-part a bit, using his own finger just to see what it would feel like to have something enter him from behind, he really wants to know how it would feel like when he uses something bigger, say a banana or a small-sized cucumber?

 

He already set everything up, his laptop showing him a picture of his uncle Peter standing by a poolside wearing nothing but shorts, his body bronzed by the sun and his perfect body-hair still glistering and sticking to his body from sweat and pool-water.

 

Travel-packages of lube form a small mountain on his desk – he knew that stocking his bag when no-one was watching after sex-ed class would turn out to be a wise choice at some point.

 

He’s standing in front of his closet-mirror, naked, holding a banana in one hand while balancing the cucumber in the other. Now there’s a tough choice to make. What would feel more like the real thing, he wonders? He stands there for a little while, weighing his options (literally), before throwing the cucumber into the corner holding up the banana for closer inspection.

 

He’s seen sex-toys that have a curve like that, supposedly ‘for enhancing pleasure’, so the banana will have to do. Maybe he’ll even get a chance to experience what that ‘prostate’ thing is that all those sites keep talking about? He grabs a condom, rips the package and rolls it onto the un-ripe fruit.

 

Putting on a CD he places the lap-top at the head-side of his mattress, just beside his pillow, before sitting upright on his knees facing the wall behind the bed. He cocks his head to look at the picture of Peter, imagining what he would want the man to do to him as he slowly wraps his fingers around his dick and starts stroking himself.

 

He isn’t fully developed yet, and his dick isn’t particularly big, but he’s definitely been growing rapidly in the last year. He wonders if his size would be a turn-off for Peter, but that thought is quickly overthrown by the thought of the man’s big hand wrapped around him, jerking him off like this.

 

He closes his eyes and lets out a long moan as he lets himself falls forward until he’s on all fours – well, technically on all threes as his one hand is still working on his dick. He thinks about Peter, about how he’d want the man’s body to cover him, to feel the man’s goatee and stubble brushing against his neck, to feel the man’s weight on top of him while rubbing his – probably big – cock between his legs.

 

Just thinking about the man breathing heavily against his ear almost makes him come, and he stops stroking himself abruptly, letting himself topple forward, panting and drooling into his pillow. He doesn’t want to come yet, he wants to know what it would feel like first, he needs to know what it would feel like to get fucked by another man.

 

After regaining himself a bit, he grabs two of the packages of lube and the banana, positioning himself on the bed again, letting his face fall forward, his ass in the air and his cheek plastered onto the mattress as his hand starts ripping open the first package.

 

He’d used it before, when he experimented with his finger, but the feeling of the slick wet stuff dribbling between the webs of his fingers still fascinates him. He starts to rub it all over the condom-covered banana and uses the rest to reach between his cleft to slick up his hole.

 

He reaches for his laptop and suddenly thinks of all the other pictures on Peter’s Facebook-page, so he scrambles to open a tab and logs on – which turns out to be a pretty difficult task while in his current position – and goes to Peter’s page.

 

Looking at the pictures, he starts to stroke himself again, reaching the banana behind him and starts rubbing it against his hole. This is definitely never going to fit. Perhaps he should try using his fingers first? He lays the banana next to him on the bed and starts prodding his hole with his finger, slowly pressing inside.

 

He can feel how his drool starts wetting the spot beneath his cheek as he tries to combine stroking his dick with dipping in and out of his ass. It feels kind of weird, but definitely not bad. He opens his eyes and looks at the pictures again, letting his mind drift to the older man’s body, the idea of Peter taking him, and he inserts another finger, gasping at the stretch.

 

It takes a while for him to adjust, but when he’s able to fuck himself from behind with three fingers he decides that it’s time to bring out the big guns – so to speak. He pulls out his fingers and reaches for the banana, sliding it between his cheeks, letting the tip linger on his still open hole before slowly dipping it inside.

 

The burn is excruciating, he can’t breathe, drool flowing from his open mouth, wetting his sheets even more as his eyes roll back in his head. He gasps and feels how his vision gets blurred by the tears that are rolling down his cheeks, but he presses in further anyway. He needs to feel this, he needs to know.

 

When an amenable amount of the banana is inside his body, he drops his hands and just let’s himself sit there with his ass in the air for a while, trying to get his breathing under control, trying to adjust to the feeling and wipe away the drool and tears. Okay. Okay, he’s got this, this was definitely the hard part (he hopes!).

 

He reaches back again and starts to move the banana out a bit before pressing it in again. It hurts, but it also feels weirdly good and as he turns the fruit around a bit he suddenly brushes a spot that makes his vision go black and he sees stars.

 

“ _Oh my God_ , yes, I definitely got this!” He mutters against his mattress to the empty room, holding the banana in place while he starts stroking his length again with his other hand. He repeats the movement, gasping and moaning until he feels his orgasm build up inside him, and it doesn’t take long before it rips through him, making his muscles clench around the fruit as he has the best orgasm of his life – okay, so he only has been having orgasms for a year and a half or so, but still.

 

Slowly retrieving the banana from his ass, he lets himself fall flat down on his bed, exhausted and utterly content. Okay, so he definitely wants to get fucked, and soon.

 

Suddenly he hears a little pop-up sound coming from his laptop, and it takes all of his regaining strength – which isn’t much at the moment – to turn his face towards the screen, only to see that someone has started a Facebook-chat with him.

 

Scrambling a bit, pulling the screen closer, he clicks on the chatbox. _Peter_. He snorts out a loud laugh when he reads the man’s message.

 

**_Aren’t you supposed to be in bed right now, Stiles?_ **


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um, yeah, so, i start writing out ideas and they somehow turn out longer than intended, so here's another little part while I start working on the next one ^^
> 
> -x-

 

 

It takes a few days for the dull pain in his ass to disappear completely, and he actually mourns the loss a bit.

 

He and Peter have sort of contact through Facebook, liking each other’s pictures and messages, sometimes leaving brief little responses and wishing each-other goodnight via chat. Stiles knows that it’ll probably take a little while before he can wiggle his way further into the man’s life, but for now, he’d have to take all that he can get, so this’d have to do.

 

At least, that’s what he thinks.

 

+++

 

It’s a week later on a Monday that he comes home from school only to find his dad waiting for him at the kitchen-table, a serious frown on his face and a glass of whisky in front of him. Somehow Stiles gets a little anxious.

 

What if his dad knows something, what if he found his gay-porn stash? Or even worse, what if he’s seen the type of porn he watches on his computer, all the Bear-lover sites he’s been visiting? He almost starts to hyperventilate at the thought alone when his dad suddenly starts to talk.

 

“You know those related cases I’ve been working on lately, well, seems like they’ve been having similar cases over in LA and they’ve asked me to come over for the weekend to see if we can put our heads together to break the case.” His dad pauses to take a sip of his Scotch and Stiles visibly deflates. _Thank god!_

 

“I know this sucks, Stiles, but I’ll be gone for a few days and I wanted to take it up with Melissa, but Tess beat me to it and offered to take you in for the weekend.”

 

Stiles watches how his dad looks at his tumbler, eyebrows knitted together in worry. Stiles knows it’s about the case and not about leaving Stiles for a few days. His dad knows Stiles can take good care of himself. He walks over to his dad and gives him a bear-hug from behind, his dad immediately putting a hand on Stiles’ arm in response.

 

“Don’t worry dad, you’ll catch the guys who did this, you always do.” He gives the man a kiss on his cheek and releases his grip to walk over to the stove to prepare dinner. His eyes settle on the fruit-bowl for a second and the sight of the bananas makes him smirk.

 

“And don’t worry about the Melissa thing, I haven’t had a sleepover at auntie Tess’ for ages, it should be fun!” And he means that, this could definitely be fun.

 

+++

 

His dad arranged for him to be picked up by his aunt after school on a Friday, but when he says his goodbyes to Scott and walks over to his aunts car, it’s Peter sitting behind the wheel. Well that is certainly an unexpected surprise. Although, seeing as aunt Tess makes her lover do just about everything in their relationship, this really shouldn’t be surprising at all.

 

As he opens the door and gets in he smiles at his uncle who quirks up the corner of his mouth a bit before putting on his sunglasses, shifting gear and driving off.

 

The drive is mostly silent, and Stiles can’t help but let his eyes drift to the man next to him. Peter is wearing one of those blasphemous V-necks again, a white one this time, and Stiles knows he’s just blatantly staring, but he just can’t help himself. If someone would ever ask he’s definitely blaming it all on teenage hormones.

 

“I really like your Facebook pictures,” he suddenly blurts out, making Peter loose his control over the wheel for a millisecond before regaining his composure.

 

Okay, why the hell did he have to say that? He’s definitely blaming that one on teenage hormones too.

 

He can’t see the man’s eyes, but the way he’s biting his bottom-lip, Stiles thinks he looks a bit pensive. He really doesn’t hope that his big mouth is going to ruin things before he even has a chance to really do anything at all.

 

“I’m sorry, was that a wrong thing to say?” He tries with feigned innocence. Peter snorts at that, clearly not believing in Stiles’ innocence for one second.

 

“Cut the bullshit, Stiles, what do you want from me?” Okay, so clearly Peter is someone who’s willing to take the risk of asking a thirteen year old boy that sort of question without even having any proof as to what Stiles’ intentions may or may not be. _Interesting. Impressive. And pretty damn hot_.

 

This probably isn’t the best time to tell the man how he really feels about him, so all he has to do is play stupid and lie. _Easy._

 

“Why, _Uncle_ Peter, whatever do you mean?” He responds in his best innocent voice, but if the way Peter cocks his head towards him with his mouth in a thin line, looking almost pissed, is anything to go by, he’s really not buying Stiles’ bull. _Okay, so maybe not so easy after all._

 

“I’m not an idiot Stiles, and I know damn well that you’re not stupid either. Or do you think I’ve forgotten about last time? Or that I don’t notice the way you’ve been staring at me every second you get the chance?” The man looks visibly stressed out but seems to deflate a bit while pondering on his next words.

 

“Just tell me what it is you think you want from me, Stiles, tell me so we can fix it.”

 

Okay, thát definitely gets stiles’ attention. _Fix it? Fix it?_ He’s likes the way he is just fine, nothing needs to be fixed, _he_ doesn’t need to be ‘fixed’. Well, if Peter wants to play it that way, fine.

 

“There’s nothing to fix, absolutely no fixing needed, I’m perfectly fine, a-okay” Peter cocks his head towards him again, sighing in defeat, but before the man can say one word, Stiles continues. “I just think you’re extremely beautiful, and hot, and fun, and nice, and I really want you to fuck me. Actually, I think about you fucking me all the time.”  

 

The car almost swarms off the road and as Peter regains control over the wheel his grip on it has visibly tightened. Hey, he wanted to know what Stiles’ deal was, right?

 

Peter doesn’t respond to Stiles’ admission, but Stiles notices the way the man looks at him from the corner from his eyes a couple of times during the rest of their drive. Well, at least he didn’t get a verbal rejection, so he’s willing to count that as a win.

 

His aunt almost comes running out of the house when they turn into the driveway, pulling Stiles into a deep exaggerated hug even before he has a chance to fully get out of the car. Peter leans with his arms across the roof of the car, removing his sunglasses and watching them, watching Stiles.

 

Tess has her back towards the car while trying to squeeze the life out of her nephew, and when Stiles catches Peter’s eyes, he smiles a somewhat devilish smile at the man, giving him a very meaningful wink. Peter drops his gaze, looking at the roof of the car for a second before closing his eyes and briefly shaking his head as if berating himself in his own mind.

 

This is definitely going to be a memorable weekend.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ao3 was down for maintenance for a bit, but *yay* they're back on =)
> 
> Any-whooo, here's another part, and if you need me, I'll just be in my corner working on the next one  
> (god I need them to have sex! don't you all need them to just get on with it? Urghhh, I hate it when fictional-characters take control of my writing and set the pace =/ If it was up to me, I'd have them bang the seconds they met, but oh well.... patience is a virtue and all that crap... -_-)
> 
> Hope you still like where it's going! 
> 
> -x-

 

 

He gets himself settled into the guestroom fairly quickly before joining his aunt and uncle in the living-room. Peter still seems a little bit tense, trying to keep as much distance between him and Stiles as possible. Stiles can’t help but smile at that.

 

As Peter goes into the kitchen to prepare dinner, his aunt sits him down on the couch and starts asking him about school and his school-projects, the typical stuff aunts are supposed to ask about. Stiles plays the part, telling her all about it like it’s one of the most fun things in Stiles’ entire life, smiling like an angel the entire time. _Oh if only she knew._

 

During dinner, Tess takes a seat that forces Peter to take the seat next to her and opposite Stiles, and when Peter sits down their eyes briefly meet. Peter looks somewhat hesitant and Stiles just gleefully smiles at him.

 

Dinner is really good, just like it was last time, and they eat their meal mostly in silence, only Tess occasionally starting some casual conversation, mostly neighborhood gossip or how much of Stiles’ mannerisms remind her of her brother. After a brief silence, his aunt suddenly puts down her cutlery, putting her elbows casually on the table while folding her hands together as if in prayer.

 

“So?” she says curiously towards Stiles with a big smile on her face. “How’s things going in the girl-department?” Peter chokes on a piece of potato he was just about to swallow, and while Stiles tries his best not to laugh, biting his tongue so hard he almost draws blood, Tess pets Peter’s back firmly, making the man cough harder until he’s able to drink some water and settle back down.

 

“Are you okay there, uncle Pete?” He asks in all earnest – okay, in feigned earnest, but Tess doesn’t know that, and he’s pretty sure she also didn’t notice the way his lip trembled slightly from held-back laughter when he asked that question. He just gets a hum-like huff in return as the man opposite him takes another few sips of his water.

 

This really isn’t the time to start talking about his bisexuality, not when he hasn’t even told his dad or his best friend about it, so he just goes with the stuff they all do know about, like his everlasting crush on Lydia.

 

“There is this one girl,” He says with his eyes locked on Peter’s briefly before turning towards his aunt with a smile. “Her name is Lydia and she’s a goddess.”

 

His aunt coos at him like she wants to pinch his cheeks, eyes sparkling as she rests her chin on her folded hands, listening with interest. Stiles sees in the corner of his eyes how Peter just cocks an eyebrow in question at Stiles’ admission of liking a girl, and Stiles retaliates by brushing his foot against the man’s calf, making the man’s eyes grow so big they almost fall out of his head.

 

“She’s smart and beautiful,” he says as he slowly caresses up and down the man’s leg. “And she probably – most likely – doesn’t even know I exist,” He stops moving his foot at that, retrieving it as he looks down at his plate somewhat peevishly, biting his bottom-lip.

 

“Well,” his aunt starts. “If she hasn’t noticed you, then she can’t be all that smart, now can she?” Stiles looks up and gives her a small appreciative smile in return.

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

The rest of dinner consists of his aunt asking more questions while Peter just sometimes nods in agreement or gives one-word answers when Tess asks him to back up her opinion. Peter never tried to slap Stiles’ foot away when he started to brush up and down his calf again, and Stiles has to admit that that little fact is making his heart flutter a bit.

 

Stiles notices that something’s off though, there’s something not entirely right about the way his aunt and uncle communicate with each-other, like there’s some unresolved tension hanging in the air between them, some kind of friction. It isn’t until after he’s bid his goodnight and resigns himself into his bedroom that he get’s proof to back that gut-feeling up.

 

It’s half past twelve and he probably should be asleep, but he’s not. Instead he’s using his little flash-light keychain to read one of his new Batman comics underneath his covers, when he suddenly hears muffled raised voices coming from the bedroom at the other end of the hallway.

 

After listening for a while, trying to make out what the voices are saying – or rather ‘heatedly whispering’ – at each-other, he hears a door opening and closing with a soft bang followed by footsteps going into the living-room. Even though he’s dead-curious about what the hell is going on, he figures it’s best to get some sleep first, so he turns off his flashlight and closes his eyes.

 

He wakes up early the next morning at about a quarter past five, which isn’t unusual as his ADD also comes with insomnia, so he hops out of bed, yawns and stretches before quietly walking down the hall towards the door leading into the living-room.

 

He pauses at the doorway, briefly looking at the man sleeping on the couch before quietly walking towards him. He already figured it was Peter he heard exiting the bedroom last night, and he’s glad he was right. It’s not every-day he’s going to get a chance like this, watching the man sleep.

 

Peter looks still vast asleep, his breathing relaxed, and Stiles knows it’s probably not a smart thing to do, but he gently sits down on the edge of the couch anyway. As the couch dips a bit he can hear the slight change in the man’s breathing, making Stiles stop his movement ánd his breathing, but Peter doesn’t wake up. Stiles relaxes slightly, letting his weight ease down entirely onto the couch next to the man’s waist, before leaning forward, hovering over him.

 

God, this man is gorgeous, it’s unfair how beautiful this guy is. Peter is wearing a white T-shirt, and Stiles must admit he’s kind of bummed out by the fact that the man is wearing anything at all.

 

He’s already seen what Peter’s chest looks like on those holiday-pictures, and the shirts Peter tends to wear during the day don’t really hide that much either, but this might be his only chance to look at it from this close-by, maybe even touch it briefly without waking him up. _Alas._

 

Stiles looks down at the blanket that’s covering the man up from the waist down and he lets his eyes linger at the spot just below the man’s waist for a moment, wondering what’s hiding underneath. Is he wearing sleeping-pants or maybe just boxers?

 

He imagines Peter being a boxer-brief kind of guy, those tight ones that really bring out his perfectly formed ass, and he has to shake himself out of that thought before turning towards the man’s face again. He really wants to touch him. _Can he touch him?_

 

Before his mind can convince him otherwise, he’s already reaching out his hand, letting his fingers ghost across the man’s features, accidentally brushing the shallow groove beside his mouth indicating the remnants of Peter’s blinding smile. “So beautiful,” he whispers and when Peter suddenly starts to move, Stiles quickly retrieves his hand and sits back again, watching how the man’s eyes slowly begin to blink open.

 

“Wha – Stiles? What time is it? What the hell are you doing here?” The man asks with a raspy voice while suddenly wide awake and frantically trying to cover himself up more. Okay, so the chance of Peter not wearing any pants underneath that blanket has just increased immensely.

 

Stiles holds out both his hands, palms raised towards the man that looks like he’s about to freak out, before removing himself from the couch.

 

“Relax, djeez, you look like you’re about to go into cardiac arrest. I was just sitting and waiting for you to wake up, nothing to get all freaked out about.” Peter eyes him suspiciously before pushing himself up and letting his feet drop to the ground, baring his hairy legs. _Yup, definitely not wearing pants._

 

Stiles can’t help but stare at the man’s bared skin for a moment before looking up again, meeting Peter’s eyes. Peter doesn’t say a word, he’s just staring back, eyes giving away nothing, nothing at all, and Stiles starts to actually feel a bit nervous.

 

“So,” he starts to break the silence. “Never mind what I’m doing here, what are you doing here? Isn’t it custom for two people who are engaged to sleep in the same bed together, or is this some sort of new-age thing?”

 

Peter ruffles a hand through his own hair at that, looking at his feet, visibly trying to think of something to say, but clearly not awake enough to think up of something quick.

 

“None of your business.” He finally retorts, and apparently he expects Stiles to leave it that, so he does.

 

+++

 

His aunt announces over breakfast that she has to visit a friend who’s in trouble and won’t be able to get back until the next day. It’s an utterly vague story and Stiles doesn’t buy it for one second, especially not when seeing the way Peter just quietly chews on a piece of bread while staring at the table at his aunt’s announcement, but he pretends to believe it anyway and tells her he hopes her friend will be alright, claiming he really doesn’t mind and that he and Peter will try to enjoy themselves as good as possible. Peter swallows his piece of bread audibly at that.

 

“Well,” he says while waving his aunt goodbye, Peter standing next to him in the doorway. “At least now we know that lying runs in the family.” He snorts as he brushes past Peter and walks back inside.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um... I think Stiles needs to push it just a bit harder to break Peter, but I'm absolutely possitive he'll get there in the end (he was so close gddmnd, so so close!) 
> 
> Hope you like it! -x-
> 
> Ps: it's all unbeta'd and English isn't my native language... and I don't really reread the sht I write before posting, so.. if there's anything off, please don't hesitate to let me know ^^ <3

 

 

When Peter walks back into the living-room he pauses and looks at Stiles.

 

“I’m sorry about your aunt, about – about all this,” he says, and Stiles can tell he honestly means it.

 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” But Peter’s not an idiot, he already knows that Stiles _really_ doesn’t mind being left alone with him. What the man probably doesn’t know is that Stiles is worried about him, and that he feels bad about the shit his aunt is doing to him.

 

“I’m sorry too,” he offers before flopping down on the couch. “And I’m sorry you’re stuck here with me, I realize that’s probably not what you want or need right now, like _at all_.” Peter snorts at that.

 

“Well, at least I’m left with someone who actually appreciates me being here.” Peter slaps a hand over his mouth after saying that, looking wide-eyed as if regretting the words that just came out of his mouth.

 

“I shouldn’t have said that, shit, and I shouldn’t say ‘shit’, _fuck._ ” Stiles just laughs at him, amused at how the man tries to regain his composure, visibly berating himself for speaking his mind and cussing in Stiles’ presence.

 

“Look on the bright side, at least now I don’t have to hide the fact that I think you’re gorgeous,” he offers with a smile, but when he sees how Peter actually starts to look worried, his face drops.

 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll just go to my room and try to stay out of your way until Tess comes back, okay?” He jumps up and starts walking towards the hallway, not getting a response, but feeling Peter’s eyes on him the entire time.

 

+++

 

He’s been sitting in his room for hours, playing games – _oh would you look at that, apparently you can play those games with one player after all, who knew?_ – and reading comics, only leaving his room to go to the bathroom or to get something to drink. He hasn’t seen Peter yet, but that doesn’t really surprise him.

 

He’s about the read the same comic-book for the third time, when suddenly there’s a brief hesitant knock on his door.

 

“Yeah?” he says and watches how the door opens and Peter stands there looking a bit reluctant to enter.

 

“So,” Peter starts with a curious tone of voice. “I was just wondering, what makes you think I like guys to begin with? I mean, that’s a little presumptuous of you, don’t you think?” His eyes meet Stiles’ for a brief moment before continuing with more confidence and a slightly belittling tone of voice. “Oh, I’m sorry, I almost forgot you’re just a child, ‘presumptuous’ means – ”

 

“I know what ‘presumptuous’ means, you dickwad,” Stiles closes his comic-book and throws it to the corner of his bed. “And your old College’buddy’ Luke has some pretty _interesting_ pictures of you two on his Facebook-page.” He air-quotes the ‘buddy’ part and watches how Peter’s confidence visibly deflates, muttering a ‘shit’ while turning his gaze to the floor.

 

Stiles can’t help but smile smugly at that. “Yeah, that’s right. You know, dear uncle, you really shouldn’t pose for a camera while sucking a guy’s face off if you don’t want people to know about where exactly your interests lie, that’s kinda asking for it, don’t ya think?”

 

“You really are an evil little shit, aren’t you?” It’s not so much a question as it is a mere observation and Peter actually smirks at his own realization, shaking his head once while looking at the floor. He sounds and looks fond, and Stiles can definitely work with that.

 

“Oh, come-on, you like it, admit it.” He points a finger at the man while hopping from his bed, earning a curious smile from his uncle.

 

“Perhaps,” Peter says before turning around, ready to walk away, but instead of doing so he just stands there as if waiting for something. Stiles frowns at the man’s back, letting his still pointing finger drop to his side, but before he can open his mouth to ask, Peter speaks again.

 

“You coming? We need to do some grocery-shopping if we don’t want to starve to death before morning.”

 

Stiles tries to follow Peter so quickly that he flails and almost trips over his own limbs, making the man in front of him huff out a laugh.

 

“Careful, don’t break your bones as well as your brain on my account.”

 

“Oh, screw you!” It’s not much of a come-back, but whatever.

 

“You wish.”

 

“I don’t like you anymore,” he mutters with a pout.

 

“You’re lying,” Peter practically singsongs while laughing even harder at Stiles.

 

 _That asshole!_   Stiles thinks he might be in love.

 

 

+++

 

 

As Peter pushes the cart, Stiles is walking behind him, blatantly staring at his ass.

 

“Stop that.” The man says without turning around.

 

“What? You already know what I think about you, and besides, your ass looks really sexy in those jeans.” He says that last part matter-of-factly and Peter quickly stops and turns around at that, shushing him between clenched teeth while suddenly looking up and plastering a big fake smile on his face. When Stiles turns around he sees an elderly lady walking behind them, looking at him first before judgingly looking at Peter.

 

“Good afternoon Mrs. Johnson, lovely day today isn’t it?”

 

Stiles tries his best not to snort at the way Peter tries to play friendly neighbor with the woman, earning a firm look from Peter. Mrs. Johnson just huffs indignantly before walking past them. _What a bitch_ , Stiles thinks while shooting daggers at the woman’s back with his eyes.

 

“God I wish I lived in your neighborhood,” Stiles says sarcastically while meeting Peter’s eyes. They both stare at each-other for a second before they suddenly start laughing and resume their shopping.

 

+++

 

They end up cooking together, which turns out to be really fun. Stiles knows how to cook basic stuff, he learned it from his mom at a pretty early age and he’s been cooking a lot for him and his dad after she died, but Peter is a true chef. He shows Stiles how to use certain herbs and spices, and lets him taste to figure out the difference between their tastes and what they can add to the dish.

 

After dinner and dishes Stiles retreats to his room and it’s not long before he hears Peter, clearly on the phone with someone, pleading. _Tess._ He can’t really follow the conversation, but Peter clearly sounds defeated in the end and Stiles can hear a cabinet-door being opened and closed before he hears the sound of glasses bumping together.

 

He knows those sounds, he’s heard those sounds at home numerous times before. Peter has grabbed a glass and a bottle and Stiles can guess that it’s not a bottle of lemonade.

 

God he hates his aunt for this. He really doesn’t want Peter to be sad and hurt and miserable, trying to drown his sorrows in liquor just like his dad used to do – and still sometimes does. He grabs his backpack and gets out the few dvds he brought with him before jumping off the bed and going back into the living-room.

 

Peter is sitting on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands cradling and covering his face. A bottle of Maker’s Mark stands in front of him on the coffee-table, a copiously filled tumbler beside it.

 

 _Well, at least the man has good taste_ , he thinks as he looks at the very expensive bottle. Not that Stiles has any experience with alcohol and whiskey or anything, but with whiskey being his dad’s drink of choice he’s picked up a few things here and there.

 

He walks over and casually let’s himself drop down besides the man, Peter looking up somewhat startled and quickly sitting up straight, trying to pretend everything’s a-okay. Stiles can’t help but roll his eyes at that.

 

“I’m not an idiot, remember.” Stiles reminds the older man beside him, making the man slump his shoulders back down a bit while he sighs.

 

“I know you’re not, Stiles, I – Look, I just don’t want to bother you with all this, okay? It’s not right.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles says overly happily with a big smile. Peter looks confused at the way Stiles responds, but before he can say anything, Stiles gets off the couch and walks over to the tv.

 

“Seeing as you don’t want to ‘bother’ me with ‘all this’, we can pretend everything’s just fine and watch a movie together. You know, have fun, forget about sorrows, maybe yell at the stupidity of some of the characters?” He puts in a dvd and walks over to the couch with the remote in his hand, flopping down beside the man again.

 

+++

 

He knew this would be the perfect movie to put a smile back upon Peter’s face.

 

“I can’t believe you never saw Hot Shots before, that’s like almost immoral!” He says while looking at the man continuously snorting beside him. They’re sitting close together, almost touching but not quite, a blanket covering their legs and their legs propped up on the coffee-table. Peter wipes away a tear from the corner of his eyes, smiling as he cocks his head towards Stiles, eyebrow raised.

 

“You’re talking to me about being moral? Seriously Stiles?” _Okay, point._

 

The movie ends and the screen goes back to the main-menu, so Stiles grabs the remote and turns it off before responding.

 

“You know, I haven’t done anything immoral, _yet._ And neither have you. _Yet._ ” He drags out the ‘yet’ a bit while bumping his shoulder against Peter’s arm. Peter just sighs at that.

 

“Look Stiles, you’re a really sweet kid, and I like you, but that’s just it, you’re just a _kid_ and you need to realize that nothing is going to happen. Nothing can happen, do you understand that?”

 

It almost sounds like a rehearsed speech, and even though Stiles knows his chances are slim, he’s willing to try. After all, he’s got nothing to lose anymore anyway, especially not with Peter making it abundantly clear that it’s never going to happen. Thát and the fact that his aunt will be back tomorrow, so this might be his last chance to try anything at all.

 

He looks at Peter, looks him straight in the eyes, biting his bottom-lip while slowly moving his hand underneath the blanket, moving it towards the man’s thigh and letting it rest there. Peter feels hot, he can feel the heat radiating from the man, but then again, maybe that’s just his own hand.

 

Peter starts to shift uncomfortably, but he doesn’t remove Stiles’ hand, so Stiles decides to take it a step further and starts to trace his fingers up and down the man’s thigh. That’s when Peter suddenly grabs his hand with his own, squeezing once before repeating that they shouldn’t be doing this, that he _can’t_ do this. Stiles just responds by keeping his eyes locked with Peter’s while rubbing his thumb across the man’s hand.

 

“Stiles, you need to stop this, you’re playing with fire.” Stiles just raises his eyebrows at that.

 

“What do you mean, playing with fire?” He asks curiously with feigned innocence, and before he can regain rubbing the man’s hand, Peter’s grip on his hand tightens and he leads Stiles’ hand upwards until it brushes against the man’s clothed erection.

 

Stiles is actually a bit stunned by the man’s action, ánd by the feeling of the man’s very apparent arousal, but before his mind can fully grasp what just happened, Peter leads his hand back and releases it on the couch between their legs.

 

Suddenly Peter pushes himself up from the couch and walks towards the hallway, stopping briefly at the doorway without turning around.

 

“Go to bed, Stiles.”

 

Peter leaves and Stiles just sits there, stunned and _very_ aroused. He’s definitely going to be jerking off tonight.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... here we go.. 
> 
> (If you need me, i'll just be over here hiding in the second circle of Hell *whistles innocently*)
> 
> Let me know what you think ^^
> 
> -x-
> 
> Ps: btw, I wonder if ppl want them to have a happy ending or not?  
> (I'm all for a happy ending myself bc i think these two deserve it, but I wonder what other people's thoughts about it are...)

 

 

He jerks of twice that evening – well, technically ‘night’ – and once again in the morning. He also makes sure to not be silent about it, making sure his loud pants and moans and breathing echo throughout the house. So _okay_ , maybe he really is an evil little shit, but he needs Peter to know what he’s doing to him, what he’s done to him.

 

He could’ve sworn he heard some specific sounds coming from Peter’s room that previous night too, but maybe that had been just his imagination, his wish for Peter to be jerking off too while thinking about him.

 

Walking out of his room, his hand still a bit sticky from come-residue, he literally bumps into Peter and almost falls back on his ass. Straightening himself out a bit he looks up, only to see the man standing there with startled eyes, wearing nothing but a towel.

 

It is obvious he just came out of the shower, and Stiles can’t help but slowly let his eyes roam over the man’s body, ogling him from toe to head and back again. The man’s body-hair is still damp and clinging to his body and _Jesus Christ_.

 

He’s had fantasies about this, about what Peter would like underneath those clothes, and he’s seen the pictures to back those thoughts up, but this is definitely _way_ better than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

 

“Sorry,” he mutters while looking at the spot on the towel where the man’s dick is supposed to be hiding. He can make out its outline and he can’t help but swallow audibly at that.

 

Peter has crossed his arms in front of his chest – _god, that chest_ – and quirks up an eyebrow at the way Stiles is bluntly staring at his covered dick.

 

“Somehow I don’t think you really are. ‘Sorry’, I mean.” Stiles closes his mouth – which had apparently surrendered to gravitational forces somewhere along the line – and raises a pointed finger to accompany a come-back, but before he can say anything, Peter turns around and walks to his own bedroom, closing the door behind him, leaving Stiles speechless once again. _Damn_.

 

+++

 

They eat breakfast in silence, but Stiles notices the way the man looks at him when he thinks Stiles isn’t looking, and he knows Peter knows Stiles is looking at him too. Stiles is pretty sure they’d need a hatched to cut through the tension that’s hanging in the air, but they don’t talk about it, instead they just finish their meal and clear the table before Stiles goes back to his room.

 

He’s been expecting his aunt back already, but she isn’t and that strikes him as a bit odd, but he thinks that maybe she just has some stuff to do in the morning and that she’ll be back in the afternoon.

 

He finishes his homework and was just about to search some mythological creatures online – he likes that sort of stuff, he always wonders what’s really out there in the world and what’s just plain fiction – when he overhears Peter talking on the phone. He walks over to the door, straining his ears to make out what is being said.

 

_“What do you mean you’re not coming home yet? Tess? – Tess, you can’t do this!”_

 

He hears a small pause, meaning his aunt is probably talking before he hears Peter’s voice again.

_“Tess? Tess!? Fuck!”_

 

Well, that was clearly the end of that conversation and when Stiles suddenly hears footsteps walking down the hall, he rushes back over to his bed and flops down quickly, grabbing a book, opening it on some random page and pretends to be reading.  There’s a soft knock on the door almost the instant he opens the book and he responds by letting out a loud ‘hm?’.

 

Peter just stands there, rubbing a hand across his face in defeat before speaking.

 

“Um,” the man pauses, as if not sure how to proceed. “Guess we’re stuck together for another day.” He sighs, also in defeat, shaking his head while looking at the ground in front of Stiles’ bed, apparently not being able to look Stiles in the eyes right now.

 

Peter doesn’t await Stiles’ response and turns around, closing the door behind him, and Stiles thinks it best to leave the man alone for a while. After all, he’s not stupid, he’s willing to push, but he knows damn well when to back off for a little bit.

 

+++

 

They also eat dinner in silence, the air still poignant with things neither of them are willing to address. Peter radiates sadness and Stiles desperately wants to make him feel better, but he also feels that this is not the right time, so he keeps to himself instead. After doing the dishes, Stiles returns to his room, pondering on what to do next.

 

Luckily he hears the sound of the liquor-cabinet opening and closing again, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, that’s just the thing he needs, so he waits. He waits long enough until he’s sure Peter must’ve consumed quite a bit of alcohol before he exits the room, taking two specific dvds with him.

 

When he walks into the living-room, Peter is sitting on the couch, leaning back, head resting against the back of the couch, eyes closed and arms also leaning casually on the headrest. One of his hands has an almost empty tumbler hanging from it, and Peter is moving it around a bit, making its content swirl.

 

“What do you want, Stiles?” He sighs without opening his eyes, taking another sip of his drink.

 

“Um, I thought maybe we could watch another movie together?”

 

“Sure,” Another sigh. “Why the hell not.” The older man opens his eyes when he notices Stiles is standing in front of him, eyeing him questioningly. Stiles holds out two dvds and rolls his eyes.

 

“Well? Which one?” Peter blinks a couple of times as if trying to get his vision a bit clearer before he looks at the two boxes in Stiles’ hands. He blinks again and raises an eyebrow before looking up and meeting Stiles’ eyes.

 

“Seriously, Stiles? Lolita and Leon? Are you kidding me?” he huffs before letting his head fall back against the headrest again.

 

“What?” Stiles responds with an angelically innocent voice. “They’re both Classics!”  

 

Peter runs a hand down his face, muttering something Stiles can’t quite decipher before he flaps his hand towards one of the movies (Leon).

 

“Fine, put it in.” Stiles snorts at that.

 

“Isn’t that supposed to me my line?” he retorts with a smirk while walking to the tv and putting in the dvd.

 

“ _Djesus_.” Peter mutters a little pained while rubbing his hand across his face again and taking another sip – or rather ‘gulp’ – of his drink. Stiles knows one thing for sure: he’s definitely had an amenable amount to drink.

 

+++

 

They’re half-way through the movie, Peter paying more attention to reaching the bottom of his bottle than actually watching the screen, when Stiles decides it’s time.

 

He grabs Peter’s drink from the man’s grip and takes a big sip before putting it down on the coffee-table, earning a disgruntled ‘hey!’ in response. Peter tries to move to sit up straight, but before he can push himself up to do so, Stiles swings himself across the man’s legs and straddles his lap, pushing at the man’s chest until he’s laying back against the back-cushion again.

 

“Stiles, what are you – ” Stiles cuts him off by placing an index-finger against the man’s lips and hushing him.

 

“Shh,” he shushes calmly while pushing his hips forward until he can feel the outline of the man’s dick at just the right spot. When he rolls his hip again, rubbing himself against Peter, the man lets out a whimpering moan and he suddenly grips Stiles’ hips firmly as if ready to push the boy off of him.

 

Stiles is quicker though, so he places his own hands on top of Peter’s and guides them towards his ass instead, pushing them against himself while he presses down against the man’s bulge again. Peter doesn’t try to push him off, instead his grip on Stiles’ ass tightens and Stiles can feel the man getting hard beneath him. _Score_.

 

Peter moans, whispering things like ‘fuck’ and ‘stop it Stiles, you really need to stop this right now’, but there doesn’t seem to be any real heat behind it and Stiles just keeps rubbing himself against the man’s erection, rolling his hips while pushing down, letting himself fall forward and placing his hands on the man’s chest.

 

“You know,” he whispers into the man’s ear while reaching behind him and grabbing one of Peter’s still kneading hands, leading it towards his mouth and taking in two of the man’s fingers. He starts suckling on them while letting out a few muffled moans of his own before letting them slip out of his mouth and leading the man’s hand back again until he reaches the waistband of his pajama-pants. “I’ve touched myself back there before.”

 

This earns him another broken whimper from the man beneath him as he gently leads the man’s hand underneath the waistband and guides him towards his cleft, pressing the man’s slicked-up fingers between his ass until they’re rubbing at his entrance. He breathes heavily against the man’s ear before whispering again.

 

“Wanna know what I was doing when you started that first chat, you know, asking me why I wasn’t asleep yet?” He rolls his hips once more, leaning back a bit to look at the man sitting beneath him. Peter looks like wants to say something – anything – but he can’t find his voice, and Stiles leans back in again.

 

“I was fucking myself with a banana while looking at your pictures. I was fucking myself, stretching myself further than I’d ever been stretched before while imagining that it was you inside me, and right after I came all over my sheets, your little chatbox popped-up and I almost got hard again.”

 

He punctuated every sentence with a roll of his hips, pressing down on the man’s clothed erection. Peter’s moans start to sound wrecked and broken and Stiles can feel how Peter’s wet fingers start to move on their own without needing Stiles’ hand to guide them.

 

Suddenly Peter open’s his eyes and looks up, looking straight at Stiles, pupils blown to the size of saucers and eyes filled with pure want and lust. The man doesn’t blink or bat an eye when he starts to press one of his fingers inside and Stiles let’s his head fall back with a loud and wanton moan.

 

“ _Oh fuck_ , that feels so good.” He presses himself back a bit, relishing the slight burn of Peter’s finger inside him, when Peter starts to gently bend his finger and starts to massage him on the inside.

 

Stiles rocks himself back and forth, and lets himself fall forward until he’s gasping against the older man’s neck. He can feel the heat and the soft ragged rumbling sounds coming from Peter’s body as he lets out a long moan again.

 

“God, Peter, _more_ , I need more.” Apparently Peter has crossed all the lines of ‘shouldn’t’ in his head, because within two seconds Stiles can feel how the man starts to press in a second finger, making Stiles bite down hard on the man’s shoulder to keep him from crying out.

 

Peter helps him rock back and forth with his other hand still firmly kneading his ass, fingers teasing inside him, when Stiles suddenly sees stars. _Prostate._ He’s rock-hard and he really needs to get fucked really _really_ soon. he’s been waiting for this for way too long and now that the opportunity presents itself, he doesn’t want to wait one more second.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Peter, you need to – _oh god, fuck_ – you need to fuck me, right now! I _need_ you to fuck me, _please_.” He knows that he’s whimpering and pleading and basically begging, but at this point he’s willing to do anything – anything! – to feel Peter inside him.

 

Before he even has a chance to grasp what’s happening, Peter has retrieved his fingers and Stiles is manhandled until he’s laying on his back across the couch with the older man settled in between his legs, covering Stiles’ body with his own while Stiles hooks his legs around the man’s waist

 

“Is this what you want, hm?” The man asks with a raspy voice while rolling his hips down with force, making Stiles feel the man’s bulge press against his still clothed yet wet and stretched hole. “You want me to fuck you like this, Stiles? Would that make you happy?”

 

There’s a little bit of snark behind those words, but Stiles doesn’t care, because ‘yes’, ‘yes’ he definitely wants to get fucked like this, just like this. He looks straight into Peter’s eyes, lips parted a bit and probably glistering with saliva as he nods and grabs the back of the man’s head, pulling him down into a wanton kiss.

 

He’s never kissed anyone like this before – well, except for Scott, but that was just to experiment and it really doesn’t count – but he’s a quick learner and gets the hang of it fairly quickly.

 

Peter groans and Stiles can feel how the man is frantically working on his own pants, trying to free himself, making Stiles’ breath hitch in response. _It’s happening, it’s really happening._

 

His uncle gives him a few more kisses, licking into Stiles’ mouth, before leaning back on his knees and Stiles pushes himself up on his elbows to watch. He can see how Peter’s pants are open, zipper down, and the fabric of the man’s boxer-briefs – called it! – have a damp spot in front of them, right where the man’s erection is straining against the fabric. Stiles can’t help but drool.

 

While Peter removes his own shirt with own swift movement, Stiles struggles to rid himself of his own T-shirt and before he even has a chance to throw it to the side, the man hooks his fingers between the waist-band of his pajama’s and practically rips the pants from his body before settling himself down between Stiles’ legs again.

 

Stiles suddenly moves onto his side a bit, reaching down until he lets his hand disappear underneath the couch-cushion, earning a questioning look from the man laying on top of him. After moving his hand around a bit, he suddenly lets out an ‘aha’ and retrieves his hand, now holding two packages, one containing lube and the other containing a condom. Peter looks at the packages before raising his eyebrows and looking down at Stiles again.

 

“Evil little shit,” the man mutters without any real heat behind it, grabbing the packages from Stiles’ hand before bending down and catching Stiles’ mouth with his own again. Peter still tastes a bit like whiskey, but the taste of Peter is becoming more apparent and Stiles definitely likes the way Peter tastes.

 

It doesn’t take long before Peter has rolled on a condom and slicked both himself and Stiles up, and Stiles can’t help but find the fact that Peter intends to fuck him with his pants still on extremely hot.

 

They’re both covered in sweat and while Stiles is busy being extremely fixated on Peter’s chest and the ways his chest-hair clings to his body and is covered in little drops of glistering sweat, he’s suddenly pulled out of his daze by the feeling of the man’s dick pressing against his entrance.

 

“Fuck you’re tight,” Peter gasps next to his ear while pressing down harder, breaching Stiles outer rim. Stiles can’t breathe as he tries to frantically grab and scratch at the man’s back, pressing their bodies as close as possible, pressing his hooked feet hard against the man’s lower back to try and get some sort of leverage to ease out the burning stretch.

 

It takes a little while before Peter is fully immersed into Stiles, and Stiles is still breathing in short sharp pants against the man’s shoulder, his hands in loose fists against the man’s back, before Peter starts talking again.

 

“Shh, it’s okay Stiles, you’re okay, just try to relax a bit and everything will be just fine.” It’s meant to sound soothing, but Stiles can’t help but find his uncle’s words irresistibly filthy and hot and he feels himself relax around Peter’s dick, even starting to get hard again himself. He’s so glad he already stretched himself with that banana before.

 

This is definitely way better than fucking yourself with a banana though. It feels warm and slick and alive and he wonders what it feels like when Peter starts moving inside of him.

 

“Do it,” he whispers, knowing that the man will hear him anyway. “Fuck me.”

 

And Peter does


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... it's not finished yet... don't worry ;)  
>  (and sorry for the fluffyness, but, ya know, I do have a heart and all that crap ^^)
> 
> I hope you'll like the reason Tess has been acting like a bitch... I basically wanted to make her look utterly bad in comparison to Peter, so... 
> 
> Let me know what ya think! <3

 

 

Somewhere during Peter’s gentle but insistent thrusts, Stiles asks – or rather ‘demands’ – if they can turn around so that he’s on top. He wants to ride him, he tells the man above him he wants to ride him, and Peter complies eagerly by rolling them around until Stiles is sitting on top. He feels small in comparison to the older man below him, but then again, he is small compared to Peter.

 

He already came once pretty quickly after the man first started his thrusting – which isn’t a surprise seeing as Peter kept rolling his body against his dick the entire time, and ‘hey’ _teenager_ –  but he’s already rock-hard again and he really wants to see himself come, see how his sperm squirts all over Peter’s body, so he tries to find the perfect angle and starts riding the man with gusto.

 

Apparently watching all those porn-flicks really does come in handy, because as he leans forward and starts licking Peter’s chest, tasting his sweat, until he reaches one of his nipples and starts sucking, the man starts to make one of the most obscene noises that Stiles has ever heard. _Okay, so that’s definitely something to focus on._

 

As he replaces his tongue with his teeth and starts tugging, Peter literally starts cursing and gasping  with a husky voice as his grip on Stiles’ hips tighten and he starts pressing down harder, hitting Stiles’ prostate with each upward thrust.

 

It feels so good and he can feel that he’s close again, so he just bites down harder until Peter actually starts to scream. It’s a low and manly scream, but a scream nonetheless, and it tips Stiles over the edge again, making his muscles contract.

 

“ _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck_.” Okay, so his vocabulary has slightly diminished somewhere along the line of getting fucked, but _whatever_.

 

He pushes himself up quickly to see how his come splashes across the man’s stomach, even reaching the man’s chest a bit, and Peter comes almost immediately after that, his hips hanging midair as he pushes himself upward into Stiles once more with force.  

 

He can feel how the man’s dick pulses inside him, it feels kind of weird but really good at the same time, and he lets himself fall back forward until he’s splayed out on top of the man’s chest.

 

 _Definitely no regrets_ , he thinks as he feels Peter’s softening dick slip out, Peter’s hand slowly caressing his back as he’s drifting away.

 

“No regrets,” he whispers softly against the man’s chest before falling asleep.

 

+++

 

 

Stiles wakes up at half past five in the morning, slightly disorientated and it takes him a little while to realize where he is. He’s in a bed, that much is clear, but it’s definitely not his bed in the guest-room. He pulls at the covers a bit and his breath hitches as he hears a soft grunting voice coming from behind him in response.

 

Turning around, he finds Peter, still asleep beside him, his arm on top of the cover resting on top of Stiles. There’s a dull pain lingering in his ass, and he remembers the cause of that pain fairly well.

 

He realizes he’s in his aunt’s bed, naked, with his aunt’s fiancé, with whom he’s had sex, and somehow he feels obliged to freak out, he starts to fidget but the actual feeling of freaking out just doesn’t seem to come.

 

“Are you done?” The man beside him mutters sleepily with his eyes still closed. “Because I’d like to remind you it was you who seduced me, so stop fidgeting and deal with it so that I can deal with my hangover.” Peter rolls away at that, he actually rolls away and turns his back towards him. _Fucker._

 

He pokes hard at the man’s side, making Peter jump and roll to his back in response.

 

“What the fuck, Stiles!” Yeah, he’s definitely awake now, and Stiles can’t help but snigger at the man’s indignant tone of voice. He can feel his mind going into hyper-mode, as it usually does in the morning, and he can’t help the stream of words that suddenly exits his mouth.

 

“I’d like to remind you that I actually have to go to school today, and not only thát, but my aunt – _your_ _fiancée by the by_ –  can walk through the front door at any given time. I mean, I don’t really care, seeing as ‘I’m just a child’ as you so abundantly made clear once – although I definitely didn’t hear you complaining last night when I was riding your dick, but _whatever_ – so I can just put on an innocent pouty face and point at you, because no-one is ever going to believe a grown man over an innocent looking kid like me. But hey, if you wanna just ‘chillax’ until your self-inflicted headache resides, by all means, that’s your call, but I do have to point out the fact that I’d really hate to see you go to jail, especially since that means we’d never be able to fuck again, and that would really suck in a bad _bad_ way. So…”

 

“Jesus Christ Stiles, breathe,” Peter is sitting up, looking at him wide-eyed like he just grew a second head, and Stiles starts to deflate, feeling a little bit stupid at going off like that.

 

“Sorry,” he mutters while looking down at his fidgeting hands, but before he has a chance to really worry about it, Peter pulls him closer, letting him rest against his chest while putting an arm around him.

 

“Don’t be. I’m not.” And Stiles throws his arm around his uncle’s chest at that, snuggling in just a little bit closer.

 

“I do have to get ready for school soon though,” he mutters against the man’s chest with a smile while letting his fingers trace circles in his chest-hair.

 

+++

 

 

They decide to shower together – okay, so maybe Stiles pouted, begged and faked an almost tantrum to get Peter to shower with him, but that’s _so_ beside the point – and they end up jerking each-other off (Stiles’ idea, obviously) until the water turns cold. Stiles definitely has a new found fascination with Peter’s dick. It’s big and perfectly formed and has this thick vein running across it that makes Stiles’ mouth water.

 

They make and eat breakfast together, they talk and laugh, and everything just feels really good and relaxed. The weird thing about all of it is, it doesn’t feel weird at all. Stiles feels happy and content, and what makes him smile even more is the fact that Peter also radiates happiness and contentment instead of the sadness that’d been lingering behind his smile before.

 

There’s a small moment of silence an Stiles takes a sip of his orange-juice , pondering how to address something that he’s been curious about ever since he met his new uncle.

 

“So,” he starts carefully. “I know this is none of my business and all, but why do you let my aunt treat you like this? I mean, what’s up between you two?”

 

Surprisingly, after a few more moments of silence, Peter does open up to him and tells him what’s been going on, and Stiles – also surprisingly – stays quiet the entire time Peter talks.

 

It turns out that his aunt Tess has been having an affair with another man, and that, even after Peter found out, she’s still fucking the guy on occasion, claiming that if Peter really loves her he’ll let her. Apparently thát’s where she’s been this weekend too, and no matter how many times Peter has pleaded with her, begged her, and tried to make everything perfect for her at home, she still goes her merry way.

 

Stiles knows he’s been listening to Peter’s words with his mouth hanging open in surprise and disbelief, but seriously?

 

“Are you stupid? No seriously, that’s a serious question, are you? Because I honestly thought you were smart and a fact like that might compromise my world-view entirely.” Peter takes his head in his hands and sighs.

 

“Look, Stiles, I don’t expect you to get this, but sometimes things aren’t as easy as you’d like them to be. When you get older – ”

 

“Oh fuck you,” Stiles cuts in. “This has nothing to do with me being ‘just a kid’, this has to do with you letting yourself be treated like a lapdog, and worse, you actually _letting_ yourself be treated like one by someone who’s out fucking someone else.” He’s angry, livid, he’s angry at his aunt and he’s angry at Peter for letter her do this to him, but when he sees Peter’s pained expression he calms down immediately.

 

“I’m sorry, I – I know I probably don’t understand half of it, it’s just – wouldn’t you rather be my lapdog instead? At least you’ll get something fun in return.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and gives Peter a smile. Peter huffs out a laugh while shaking his head at the table.

 

“I think I already am your lapdog, Stiles.” It’s said with nothing but fondness and Stiles’ heart somehow flutters a bit at those words.

 

+++

 

There is another conversation they have about something that Stiles would rather ignore, but he knows they can’t. Peter explains to him that they can’t have a sexual relationship, or any relationship at all for that matter,  not with Stiles’ current age, as something like that is bound to come out at some point in time, and Stiles hates it, but he also knows Peter’s right. His dad would lynch the man, _literally_.

 

Stiles looks visibly bummed-out and sad after that, and Peter can’t help but snort at Stiles’ reaction.

 

“Trust me Stiles, once you’re older you’ll think back and wonder what the hell you ever saw in someone like me.” Stiles eyes him with a calculated look as if going over Peter’s words in his head and seriously contemplating them.

 

“I honestly doubt that,” he retorts in all earnest. And he means it, it’s something he feels in his soul – no matter how corny that sounds even in his own head.

 

Peter gives him an appreciative smile in return, but Stiles can see that he doesn’t give his words much weight.

 

+++

 

Just as they leave the door so that Peter can drop him off at school, Tess turns into the driveway and Stiles can see her looking visibly bummed at having caught them before they left. When she steps out of the car she has a big fake smile plastered upon her face though, and Stiles thinks he might get sick but he smiles back anyway.

 

She walks over cooing him and telling her how sorry she is that she couldn’t be there this weekend, chatting away and giving him some lame excuse about her supposedly sick ‘friend’.

 

When she hugs Stiles, he just stands there stiffly, his eyes catching Peter’s and he cocks an eyebrow rolling his eyes in annoyance. Peter clears his throat at that, startling Tess like she hadn’t even realized Peter was there.

 

“You know, _Tess_ ,” the man lingering on her name as if tasting something disgusting. “Stiles is not an idiot.”

 

Tess looks at Peter with question in her eyes and the man looks back briefly before smiling and brushing past her towards his car.

 

“And neither am I,” he continues without looking back. “I’ll pack my things when I get back, okay? You coming Stiles?” he practically singsongs that last bit before opening his door and stepping inside.

 

Stiles just stands there for a few seconds, utterly stunned – not as stunned as his aunt looks though –, before practically skipping past his aunt and hopping into the car.

 

He can’t help but stare at Peter with glee during the drive while Peter keeps his eyes on the road.

 

“What?” The man asks, and Stiles’ smile just brightens.

 

“Oh nothing, I’m just really proud of my lapdog right now.” Peter snorts at that.

 

Suddenly something dawns to Stiles and his smile falters.

 

“But if you and Tess don’t get married, you’ll won’t be my uncle anymore and we won’t get to see each-other anymore, like _ever_.”

 

Peter cocks his head towards him briefly, watching how Stiles bites his bottom-lip while looking at his own lap, but he doesn’t say a word and they continue the drive in silence.

 

When Stiles hops out of the car he turns around before closing the door, leaning inward a bit.

 

“No regrets?” he asks slightly uncertain with a sparkle of hope in his eyes.

 

“No regrets.” Peter replies and he smiles at Stiles before driving off.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All things must come to an end... =(
> 
> (I am planning on writing another small part though, kinda like an overal little view into the (near) future, hence it saying chapter 9 of 10 ;))
> 
> Let me know if you liked the way it ended (I honestly hope you do =/)
> 
> -x-
> 
> Oh! And there's a change of pov at the end (Peter's instead of Stiles'), but I think it's pretty clear ^^

 

 

Stiles can’t help the dopey smile that’s plastered on his face at school, and he’s just lucky Scott is gullible enough to believe it has everything to do with Lydia instead of the fact that he can still feel the ghost of his uncle’s – or rather ‘former uncle’s’ – cock up his ass.

 

At the end of the day he opens his locker to get out some of his books for homework when he sees an envelope stuck to the inside of his locker-door. He looks around, trying to find its source but not seeing anybody watching him as he peels it from the door. It’s a bit heavy and when he looks inside there’s a key and a letter.

 

He has a suspicion as to who it’s from, but he can’t for the life of him figure out how Peter could’ve just walked into the school without being noticed ánd break into his locker, also without being noticed. He closes the envelope and puts it in his backpack before hurrying home.

 

In the privacy of his room, he opens the envelope and empties its contents on his desk. He holds up the key and looks at it curiously while unfolding the letter with his other hand. He was right, It’s clearly from Peter.

 

                                     

He looks up at the key again before opening his desk-drawer to retrieve a few sheets of paper and starts writing.

 

 

+++

 

 

Peter has to admit that he didn’t think Stiles would ever take him up on his offer, after all, Stiles is just a kid, and Peter was sure he’d move on and forget about him soon enough. And he definitely didn’t expect them to actually stay in contact for over four years. Clearly he had been wrong.

 

He takes another look at Stiles’ last letter in his hand before killing the engine and getting out of the car.

 

                                       

 

The sound of a bell rings through the entire school and he casually leans against his car, arms and feet crossed and sunglasses in place. He gets a few looks from some giggling girls walking past him, but that doesn’t really strike him as odd. He might be forty-two and have a few silver hairs at the side of his head just above his ears, but he works out a lot and he knows he still looks pretty damn good.

 

He quickly snaps out of his daze as he sees a young man approaching him with a smile. Stiles wasn’t lying when he said he had gotten bigger, because Peter is sure the kid practically exceeds him in height. He looks good, better than good even, Stiles has grown up to be one extremely beautiful young man, and Peter is glad he’s wearing his sunglasses because he’s starting to feel a bit nervous.

 

Stiles nearly trips over his own limbs while simultaneously trying to walk and let his eyes skim Peter from head to toe, licking his lips excessively. _Well, clearly some things never change_ , Peter thinks as he sniggers a bit at the sight.

 

“Fucking Finally!” Stiles says as he practically runs the last few feet, flinging his backpack to the ground and literally jumps the older man. Even though Stiles startles him a bit, Peter reacts fast, unhooking his arms just in time to catch him and pull him in closer.

 

Stiles lifts one hand, removing Peter’s sunglasses and lets his eyes roam his face before he looks into his eyes. Peter looks at him curiously and expectant and Stiles just smiles at that, leaning in to press their mouths together.

 

When they both open their door to get in, Stiles just stands there looking at him from the other side of the car, tapping the fingers of one hand frantically on top of the roof while biting the corner of his bottom-lip. Peter quirks an eyebrow at him in question.

 

“God you’re hot, I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any hotter, but _wow_. Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?”

 

Peter huffs out a laugh at that, looking at the ground while shaking his head in amusement before getting into the car.

 

“You don’t look so bad yourself there, Stiles. Age looks good on you.”

 

Stiles snorts before stepping in and buckling up. He sees something in the corner of his eyes and when he turns his head, there’s a box filled with letters on the backseat.

 

“Are those?”

 

“Yup. Two a month per person for over four years. Figured you’d want to keep them, and seeing as we won’t be needing the drop-box anymore…”

 

Stiles just smiles, leaning in for another kiss in response.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real End with sexy-times ;)
> 
> Hope you like it!
> 
> <3

 

** EPILOGUE**

 

“Djesus Stiles, your mouth – _Fuck!_ ”

 

Another thing that became clear to Peter rather quickly is that Stiles is still one kinky little kid – well, technically legally an adult, but definitely kinky.

 

He watches how Stiles’ lack of gag-reflex enables him to swallow him whole, before he leans back into his seat, his eyes rolling back in his head as he feels how his brain is being sucked out of him through his dick.

 

They decided to wait another year before making their relationship public, and now that Stiles has finally told his dad that he wants him to meet his boyfriend, his dad had been adamant about them coming over for dinner to be properly introduced.

 

Stiles had left out a few small parts while telling him though – besides the obvious fact that Peter had taken his virginity at the age of thirteen – like his age and the fact that it’s his dad’s sister’s former lover Peter and not someone he met on campus, but Stiles convinced Peter it would be for the best to drop those bombs when they got there.

 

Peter’s still not so sure about that idea, but he’s also still not able to deny Stiles anything either, so.

 

Like he wasn’t able to refuse it when Stiles said they should leave extra early – an hour early to be exact! – to make a good impression. Or when Stiles demanded that Peter pulled over at an abandoned rest-stop, making his true motives behind leaving early abundantly clear.

 

He lets his hand rest on Stiles’ head, tightening his grip on the boy’s hair and putting in just a little pressure in turn with Stiles’ downward movements, just the way he knows Stiles likes it. Stiles’ responsive moans vibrate against his cock, making him shiver and he almost comes.

 

Suddenly Stiles stops, releasing Peter with an exaggerated pop, looking entirely pleased with his own handy-work as he looks down at the saliva-covered dick beneath him. Peter hears him hum a decisive  ‘hm hm’ and watches how Stiles suddenly turns around and exits the car.

 

Before he even has a chance to raise an eyebrow in question, his door is being yanked open and Stiles holds out a hand. Peter takes it without thinking and steps out, dick still hanging from his open pants. Before he can ask, Stiles cocks his head sideways a bit, looking like a kid who just heard he’s going to Disney Land.

 

“I want you to fuck me against the hood of the car,” he says with glee while turning around and leading Peter to the front of the car until Stiles is facing the front window. He pulls Peter behind him and unbuttons his own pants until he’s able to pull it down just enough, grabbing Peter’s hands to pull him in closer until he can rub his ass against Peter’s rapidly re-hardening cock.

 

“I want you to fuck me just like this, no preparation, no lube, just a bit of spit to slick yourself up.”

 

Peter really doesn’t need any more convincing than that and he grabs one of Stiles’ arms pulling it behind his back and upward, making the kid gasp before bending him over the hood until his cheek is plastered against the metal. He pushes his groin against Stiles’ ass again, teasing him and making him moan in a long and wanton way.

 

“You want this, hm?” he asks rhetorically with a gravelly voice while rubbing himself between Stiles’ ass.

 

“ _Oh god, yes, please,_ ” Stiles moans in response while drooling all over the hood.

 

Peter releases Stiles’ arm and bends over him, covering the boy’s body with his own while hooking one arm around Stiles’ neck and giving it a little pressure, making Stiles moan even more. He holds out his other hand underneath Stiles’ saliva covered mouth.

 

“Spit,” he demands, and Stiles does.

 

“Good boy,” he says as he leads his hand towards his dick to slick himself up. He lines himself up almost immediately before thrusting forward, thrusting himself into Stiles with force. He isn’t gentle, but he knows Stiles’ doesn’t want him to be, that he loves it when Peter takes him rough like this.

 

Stiles’ breath hitches a little the second Peter enters him before he lets out a long lingering moan.

 

“ _Oh_ – _Fuck!_ ”

 

Stiles whimpers and curses as Peter thrusts so hard that he’s already sure Stiles’ legs will be bruised and battered from their insistent contact with the front of the car.

 

“Oh fuck ‘s so good, oh yeah Peter – _fuck!_ – give it to me hard.”

 

Peter grabs Stiles’ hands and stretches his arms forward until Stiles is fully plastered against the hood of the car, before covering the boy’s back, pushing him down on the hood while he continues to thrust into him with force.

 

He bites and sucks on the kid’s shoulder and neck, breathing loudly into Stiles’ ear, telling him what a ‘good boy’ he is as he knows how much Stiles loves that, and he hears how the boy’s breathing becomes erratic, his face scrunching up while he mutters a few more cusses before coming.

 

As he feels how Stiles’ muscles contract around him, he puts in a few more insistent thrusts before his own muscles tighten and he feels his come pulsing inside Stiles.

 

They stay there plastered on top of the hood for a few moments, both trying to catch their breath before Peter gets up and practically peels the boy from the hood. Stiles looks fully blissed-out as he swipes a hand between his cleft, retrieving it covered in come and smearing it on top of the hood before he pulls up his boxers and pants, not even bothering to clean his ass up more.

 

“Okay, now I’m ready, let’s go.” Stiles wavers a bit as he walks back to the passenger-side of the car. Peter tucks himself in too and they regain their trip – or ‘walk of death’ as Stiles calls it – to Stiles’ family home.

 

+++

 

 

They used the rest of the drive to look a bit less fucked – literally – and amazingly enough they manage to do a pretty decent job. It is only when they’re standing in front of the front-door of the house that Stiles suddenly notices the spot of dried come on his _dark_ -colored – _because of course it is_ – dress-shirt.

 

“Oh fuck!” He starts peeling at the white spot, trying to get as much off as possible, when the door suddenly swings open. Stiles stops his fidgeting, releasing his shirt and gives his dad an overly big theatrical smile.

 

“Hey, dad!”

 

He drags out the ‘hey’ a bit too long, and his dad eyes him suspiciously, gaze dropping to the remnants of the spot on Stiles’ shirt for a second before suddenly turning towards Peter.

 

Stiles looks a bit freaked out, smile still in place but eyes telling a different story when he sees the way his dad is taking in the sight of the older man. Peter looks like he’s face to face with a shark and has to await the unavoidable moment of being eaten. He’s probably not that far off.

 

“You remember Peter, right?” he almost tops it off with one of those little nervous laughs, but now might not be the right time to laugh.

 

His dad stays quiet for an eerily long time, just slowly eyeing Peter from top to bottom, narrowing his eyes, squinting a bit while looking anything but amused, before suddenly turning around.

 

“I need a drink,” his dad mutters as he drags a hand across his face while walking back inside, leaving the door open for them to follow suit.

 

Well, at least nobody got shot – yet – , so Stiles is definitely willing to count that as a win.

 

Peter swallows audibly, staring at his dad’s retreating back with wide eyes before opening his mouth.

 

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” he whispers, still staring at the same spot in the hallway.

 

“Probably,” Stiles retorts with a smirk before grabbing Peter’s arm and dragging him inside.

 

 

 

**– FIN –**


End file.
